


Championship Point

by hollie443



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-07-24 01:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7488894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollie443/pseuds/hollie443
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darija was once an up and coming tennis player who could have went all the way to the top spot. But an unexpected turn of events led her to turn her back on the game forever. Now her sister has won coaching sessions with the one and only Roger Federer and she wants her to go with her. As a result, Darija is going to come face to face with her biggest fears. Perhaps with some help along the way, she might realise that facing her biggest fear will be her defining moment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Championship Point

**Author's Note:**

> So I've finally decided to start writing the fanfiction so I hope you all really enjoy it! Also, I just want to say that I know Roger Federer doesn't reside in Monte Carlo in real life but since a lot of the big tennis players stay there, I've decide to make it the place most of them stay. Stay tuned for more and let me know what you think!
> 
> H xoxo

_“This won’t hurt if you don’t struggle!”_  
“Please no! Please don’t! Stop! Help! Someone please help me!”  
“No one is going to help you! There’s no one here. I said stop struggling!” 

_There was no one going to help me, I knew that as I sat and waiting for it to continue. It seemed to go on forever as I struggled against the man. A man that I had once considered my closest confidant and a man who now caused me so much pain. The harsh cold of the floor tiles would be forever engrained in my memory, along with my own whimpers. And as I lay there for what seemed like hours after it happened, I began to wonder if I would ever feel the same again… how I used to. The sole thing that I was certain of was; I would never pick up a racket again. Not if it meant that I would have to relive that night…_

_“No….Please… Please!”_

 

“Dari? Darija!”

I started out of my sleep like a shot and found the eyes of my sister, who was looking at me with a face of both excitement and concern. I moved my hand up to smooth my face to find that a thin layer of sweat had developed on my forehead and Irina could probably see that. 

“Hmm? What? What time is it?” I asked a little groggily, rubbing my eyes and furrowing my brow. Even for an early riser such as myself, this was a completely uncalled for wakening. I was also hoping to make sure that I brought her attention away from my clearly very turbulent dream. 

“It’s 4am! And more importantly, it’s time to get up! We have a flight to get in just under 4 hours! Come on! Up! We’re Monte Carlo bound!” 

I let out a somewhat loud groan, the reminder hitting me like a brick wall. 

Why did I have to agree to this?! I had to take a huge chunk of time away from work to take my sister to Monte Carlo because our parents had no way to go themselves. What was worse, it was all because of the fact that my sister had managed to win coaching lessons with the one and only Roger Federer; she is an 19 year old amateur tennis player which is why it would be stupid to turn down such an opportunity. This was my worst nightmare; I never wanted to go near a tennis court again unless it was absolutely necessary. I deemed a final at a national competition absolutely necessary; I could just about manage to sit through without breaking out in a cold sweat. The reason for my unwillingness to do anything related to tennis was because I had been an up and coming tennis player once. Back when I was also 19, I had put out the world number 1 at the French Open and I really believed that it was only the beginning for me. Turned out I was wrong as that night I was sexually assaulted by a man I believed was one of the closest people to me: my coach. It was that night that I turned my back on tennis for good. I never told anyone close to me what happened. Although it is cold hearted to say but my parents conveniently divorced that year and I moved from my home country of Serbia to Canada with my father. Even though it meant leaving my 12 year old sister behind, I saw this move as a means of escaping what had happened to me. 

That was seven years ago, now I’m a qualified physiotherapist. I don’t do a lot when it comes to sports; more rehabilitation than anything but I guess I wanted to opportunity to be close to sports without actually having to play them. But the main thing was that I got therapy for what happened to me all those years ago. I never told my family, get anxious when close to anything tennis related and I still have nightmares from time to time but that’s a small price to pay for not feeling like I’m going insane. I feel much more at peace with myself as a result of it. But now… well, I have going to get thrown back into it again because I felt like I was making up for the time Irina and I lost after our parent’s divorce. 

“Darija! Hellooooo!”  
My sister once again brought me from my thoughts and back to the present day and I turned to look at her again.

“Yes?” was all I managed to get out due to the sleep still hanging around me like a bad smell. 

“We’re leaving in like 45 minutes! Get up!” Irina huffed, the air she blew out making her fringe swish around her face.

“Your energy is too much to handle this early in the morning Iri. I need coffee” I grumbled once more before actually swinging my toned legs out of my childhood bed. Despite the fact that I was no longer playing a sport, I liked to keep myself in shape. Something that was probably more of a force of habit than an active decision. 

“Can you believe we’re actually going to meet Roger Federer today?! Oh my god, this is a dream come true! This is so amazing!” Irina exclaimed as she bounded down the stairs after me as though she was my overexcited shadow.

“Yes, it’s great,” I said flatly as my hands finally found the coffee maker that resided in the kitchen. Our mother was already up and preparing breakfast for us, God love her, “Mama, you didn’t need to get up with us,” I protested as I kissed her cheek, hoping to drown out my sister’s incessant babbling. 

“I don’t care if you’re 26, you’re still my baby and I hardly get to see you,” my mother responded before handing me a cup of already made coffee as though she knew what was going threw my head as I fiddled with the overly confusing coffee maker. 

“Darija! Are you even listening to me?!” Irina pouted like a 6 year old as she sat at the breakfast bar.

“Yes yes, it’s all very exciting and you can’t wait to meet Roger and receive coaching sessions from him. Not to mention stay at his home.” I guessed, since I really wasn’t listening, I just had a good idea what she was going on about. And probably had been since she found out about her win.

“Well… fine. You could have at least looked more interested!” she retaliated, the sense of defeat apparent in her voice. 

“Like I said: you started before coffee had hit my stomach”.

“Girls girls. Eat your breakfast. You have a long day ahead of you!” our mother scolded us as she set all out plates at the tables. As soon as the plates were in front of us, we forgot about our bickering and started tucking into the food. It was going to be a long day after all. 

________________________________________________________

_Several hours later_

The plane touched down in Monte Carlo less than two hours of us leaving Serbia. My sister, despite the early rise, was still not settling down. If she wasn’t talking to me, who was trying to ignore her, she was chatting to the man next to her who honestly looked like he was ready to hang himself. I spent most of the flight staring out of the window, looking out at the calm clouds that were below the plane. To be honest, I was mentally preparing myself for what was to come. I knew that I could try to stay clear of the courts and training sessions… just stick to matches but I knew that it was going to be much harder than I thought it would be. It was going to be hard to pretend I’ve never had an interest in the sport. To pretend that I didn’t think Roger Federer’s feats are amazing. And I also hoped that I could avoid anyone remembering who I was. I wanted Irina to be in the spotlight and to sit in the background, praying no one notices me. I guess I probably won’t be as lucky as I hope to be. I knew that my departure from the game was one of the biggest mysteries of tennis. I try to pretend that I don’t know it but I see my name occasionally on sports shows. I worried that if someone did discover who I was the it would take the limelight away from my sister who was struggling enough not to think about what I had achieved to years before her. Despite the fact that I was once again lost in my own thoughts, I felt my chair beginning to jiggle slightly and I turned slowly to find out what was causing it. Sure enough, there was Irina next to me, jolting her leg up and down in what to appeared to be a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Despite the fact that the motion was mildly annoying, I gave her a nudge to get her attention. 

“Hey,” I said eventually, “You’re going to do great and you’ll impress Roger so much, I just know it,” I told her reassuringly.

My softness towards my sister was a surprised it seemed, because she simply stared at me for a few moments before throwing her arms around my body, locking me in a tight embrace. 

“Thank you Dari. I want to do you proud,” Irina told me softly, “Maybe if I do well here and get some sponsors, we can talk about you becoming my physio?”

I tried my best not to tense up at that suggestion. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be around my sister if she gets on the WTA tour, it would just mean that I would have to spend more time around all things to do with tennis. Despite the fact that I had all the therapy I needed to really make me feel better about myself, it didn’t stop the fear of the sport. A sport that I had once loved more than anything. To most, it would seem like a sad story but it was something that I just had to deal with. I am, and always have been a fighter and I needed to remember that. Though despite my sureness that I would not be stepping into that role, I didn’t want to do anything to lower her mood. I pulled back slowly and looked at her with a smile.

“Well, if there come a time when we need to cross that bridge, we can definitely talk about that. But I warn you, my rates are high,” I winked at her as I pulled back, which extracted a giggle from Irina. Almost immediately after, the fasten seatbelt sign clicked off and we busied ourselves with getting our carry on luggage sorted. 

__________________________________

It couldn’t have been too long after we had both left the crowded airport that Irina and I found ourselves sitting in a private car that was taking us to the residence of Roger Federer. I, more than my sister it seemed, was very aware of the fact that Monte Carlo was the home of most of the world’s top tennis player. Anyone who was anyone resided in this city for most of the year, especially for the tennis season; which lasts most of the year anyway. Though I had heard the Roger Federer divides some of his time between Switzerland and here since his wife spent most of her time back there. Well, so I read but who believes anything they read in the tabloids and gossip magazines really? 

I glanced out the window as we drove a little bit out of the city, wondering what the former world number one’s home would look like. Much bigger than her mother’s home back in Zurich, or her father’s in Canada, that was for sure. Though I also made the mental note that I wanted to explore the city when I had some downtime, which I expected to be a lot of the time since I was only the guardian for the girl who was being coached. 

Eventually, the car came to a halt after rolling up a large driveway to a house that was simply huge. Huge probably didn’t cover it actually. I had no idea how one man could live in such a large place. My quick sideways glance at Irina told me that she was also thinking much like me. Another few moments on and I was clearing my throat to bing us both back to planet earth.  
“Lets get out shall we?” I said to my sister as I pulled the door handle and stepped out onto the driveway. There was already someone unloading our suitcases from the trunk which I was pleased about considering how heavy our suitcases were. I may not be leading the athlete’s lifestyle now but I still hadn’t lost the habit of packing lightly.

We hadn’t waited more than a minute before a figure appeared in the vast doorway of the house. Irina looked like she was going to faint but luckily I managed to keep my composure as I saw immediately who it was. Mr Federer. I had already gone through what Irina was now; he briefly spoke to me before my match against the world number one seven years ago at the US. 

“Welcome to Monte Carlo, I hope you got here without any problems. I’m sure you probably know this but I’m Roger Federer. I’m assuming you’re Irina?” he asked my sister who was standing in his line of sight more than I was. 

“Y-yes, I’m Irina,” she managed to stutter out, “And this is my sister Darija, she here to look our for me since my mother thinks I can’t look after myself. But she’s also a physio and I’m trying to talk her into being mine but she’s not for it right now”

 _Ground swallow me up… ground swallow me UP!_ Irina’s babbling had put Roger’s amused expression right on me.

“Oh well, luckily we have a physio close by since you’re not actually here to do that. It’s nice to meet you Darija,” he chuckled as he held out his hand to me. 

“Nice to meet you too Mr Federer,” I replied with a slightly weaker smile of my own. His eyes seemed to go over my face for longer than I really hoped it was, as though he was trying and failing to place me. I really really hoped that was my imagination and it wasn’t the case.

“Roger is fine,” he replied looking at both of us again, “How about I give you a tour of the house or would you both like to get some rest since it is quite late and I’ve no doubt you’ve had a long journey?”

“A tour would be great please!” Irina said almost immediately but I wasn’t feeling the same bouncy energy that she was. All I wanted to do was curl up and sleep for a while. This unwanted reintroduction to tennis was taking its toll on me more than I wanted to admit. 

“Would I be okay if I headed to my room and maybe get shown around tomorrow? I’m not feeling quite as spritely as my sister,” I tried to joke. It seemed to work since Roger let out a laugh and it was quickly followed by a nod. 

“That’s no problem, I’ll go on with Irina but I’m sure I’ll be able to show you around at some point tomorrow. Your room is two floors up, turn left at the stairs and walk down until you reach the third door on your right. That’s your room. Shall we continue Irina?” he told be before immediately focusing on Irina again. 

I thanked him quickly before making my way to my room. I was glad I wasn’t drunk because I was certain that I would get lost if I was to try and find my way back. As opened the door, I found that the room was very large and also had an ensuite which was a nice touch. I didn’t look around much more since I really wanted to just get into bed so I did just that. I fished out a set of pyjamas from my suitcase and immediately got changed into them before jumping into the massive bed. 

As I lay awake in the now dark room, I stared at the ceiling as thought I expected it to tell me a secret that matched my own right now. But it didn’t, it just seemed to remind me that my time here was going to be difficult and hard to bear at stages but I also knew that it could also heal me. As I finally drifted off to sleep, I was left with a hopeful thought that I might not be as unfixable as I thought.


End file.
